By Cecelia Dowdy - titanicfanfiction dotcom
Read and review!
Chapter 12
Jack shuffled into the crowded church, dropping into a back pew. A myriad of people, in every shade of brown, filled the sanctuary. A dark-skinned man with gray, cotton-ball-like hair pounded on the piano keys, causing holy notes to fill the warm air. A choir, sporting mismatched robes in various colors, swayed back and forth to the soulful music. Pastor Michael had confided that they'd not had enough money to purchase the same color and style of choir robes for their members. They'd only had enough money to purchase some discontinued robes in various shades.
Michael had chuckled when he'd continued speaking, telling that the choir robes had been a perfect fit for all their members. Jack stared as the choir swayed, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm to the music, creating a rainbow of color behind the podium. Looking away from the choir, he focused on the congregation populating the wooden pews. Some of the pews had been scratched and scarred. A few of the stained-glass windows had been cracked. Pastor Michael had also confided that they were renting this church for a huge price. "Although it's in a bad neighborhood, and the rent is kind of high, it's all we could find. Most blacks find it impossible to own property. Since our incomes are so low, we're forced to rent, and we're at the mercy of our landlord. These pews were donated by a white church in another state."
Some of the congregation members bestowed him with icy glares, and Jack winced. Ever since he'd recalled that Rose was going by the name of Lily Jackson, he was still having a hard time finding her. He knew she stayed at a rooming house, but, he wasn't sure which one. Pastor Michael had commissioned some of his congregation members to search, but, so far, they'd come up empty. "Do you realize how many rooming houses they have in New York, Jack?" he'd asked.
Jack sighed, trying to smile at the members that glared at him. Some of the congregation members resented having him as a part of their church. This was Jack's first church service since the Carpathia had landed. He'd been too ill to attend before now. Although several members of the congregation realized his plight, and welcomed him with open arms, others weren't so open-minded. He closed his eyes, blocking out the angry stares of the brown-complexioned congregants. He swayed to the music, enjoying the rhythm, recalling when he'd taken Rose below deck on the Titanic. During the party they'd attended that night, they'd danced, laughed, and guzzled glasses of beer. Just recalling the way her soft body felt in his arms...
Feeling a tug on his sleeve, his eyes popped open and he saw a little girl and her mother sitting behind him. The little mocha-colored child grinned, showing several missing teeth. "Don't worry, Mr. Jack," she whispered. "I like you." She then pressed her lips against his cheek. He recalled meeting the girl briefly when she'd come to visit the church with her mother earlier in the week. Taking a moment to think, he recalled her name was Reba.
He returned her grin, his skin still moist from her impromptu, sloppy kiss. The child must've noticed the icy glares from the other parishioners. Lord, why can't everybody just get along? He spotted Thelma and a man whom he presumed was Paul sitting in the corner. If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought that Paul was a white man with a dark tan. He recalled that Thelma had said that Paul was a quadroon – one quarter Negro. He sighed. Although the entire congregation did not accept Paul's and Thelma's romance, Paul had a better chance of being accepted into this church since he was at least partially Black.
After the music had died down, Pastor Michael stepped up to the podium. "I'm sure all of you realize that the young man sitting in the back is Jack Dawson, a Titanic survivor suffering from partial memory loss." Jack cringed, not wanting to draw attention to himself. It appeared that at least half the congregation hated him, and after Pastor Michael's speech, they'd probably hate him even more. A few people murmured and several congregants smiled, and Jack's heart lifted. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all. He eased his lips into a smile, hoping he'd get well soon so that he could come up with a survival plan for himself and Rose.
Pastor Michael continued. "As most of you know, Jack was attacked when he came into this neighborhood so that he could go to a pawn shop to get some artist pencils. I think we should take up a collection for Jack so that he can buy the things he needs to make his drawings."
Murmurings rumbled through the church, filling the air with noise. Jack closed his eyes, too embarrassed to look at the parishioners who frowned upon his being there, sure that most hated the fact that they were helping to support a White person with a charitable cause. Flexing his fingers, he itched to take a pad of paper and a pencil to sketch. Sketching helped to relieve the tension in this world – a world that seldom made any sense. Before the Titanic sinking, he'd been happy, free as a lark, making his way from town to town, sketching people to make a living. Now, his optimistic attitude had popped like the air escaping from a busted balloon. Why hadn't Pastor Michael told him that that he was making a plea to his church?
Soon, the tinkling sound of metal against metal resounded in the church. Jack's eyes popped open and he spotted parishioners stepping out of their scarred pews, coming forward, dropping money into the collection plate located in the front of the church. Several people glared at him, refusing to offer assistance. Pastor Michael stepped back up to the podium, speaking in his naturally loud voice. "I know some of you are apprehensive about helping a white man. But let me tell you, the Lord frowns upon your thinking that way. Put your negative thoughts and feelings aside and help Jack. Remember, if you bless others then you, yourself, will be blessed."
Finally, amidst more grumbling, several of the griping members stepped forward, dropping their coins into the collection plate. Jack breathed a sound of relief, realizing he might receive enough coins to purchase his art supplies. Also, if he ever made some decent money from his drawings, he'd need to remember to come to this church and give money back to them since they'd helped him in his time of need.
After the collection had been taken, the choir sang more songs as notes from the piano spilled into the air, filling the church with rocking, holy music. Vibrations rippled the floor while congregants scattered in the aisle, going up and down, back and forth, dancing. A heavy-set woman, wearing a bright red dress, opened her mouth, screaming, jumping up and down so hard that it was a wonder the floor didn't collapse!
Much later, the congregation quieted, the red-dressed woman passed out while other congregants attempted to revive her. Quiet, blissful peace, filled the sanctuary. Bright sunlight streamed through the grubby glass windows, shining on Pastor Michael as he stepped up to the podium. Clutching his Bible, he stopped, staring at each member of his church, before speaking. "Today, I'd like to talk about the story of the Good Samaritan." He flipped his Bible to the story about the Good Samaritan, reading the passage aloud. Michael then banged his fist against the podium, sweat glistening on his nut-brown skin. "A man was attacked and beaten by thieves." He shook his head, taking a sip from the glass of water on the small end table. "A priest and a Levite both passed the man, refusing to help, but, a Samaritan came and helped the man." He paused, again looking into the face of each congregant. "So, do you want to be like the crooked priest or the Levite, or, do you want to be like the Samaritan, and do what Jesus wants you to do?" Taking a deep breath, he continued. "I want all of you to pray and think about this, think about helping Jack. I know times are hard and we don't have much, but, just pray about it." He lowered his voice, his face taking on a sad expression. "If Thelma and I hadn't shown up, Jack may have died out there. I'm trying to teach all of you about God's grace, as Christians, we need to do what's right."
Jack finally opened his eyes, as more people traipsed forward, dropping coins into the pile - the pile of money being collected on his behalf. Their expressions were not as hostile, so, he could only hope that Pastor Michael's words had had some impact on their attitudes. After Jack's offering was complete, Pastor Michael prayed. "Lord, please help the hungry and the needy people in this church. Please help those who need healing, both physical and mental healing." He then prayed for certain congregation members who were suffering from financial and physical hardships. He prayed for those that were too ill to attend, and then he mentioned how the Lord had blessed those in the pulpit over the past week. After he'd said his 'Amen', the church remained quiet, dead quiet, for a few minutes. Soon people stood and several people spoke to one another, creating a small din of noise. Confused, Jack eyed the congregation members leaving their pews, going toward the stairs.
Reba rushed over to Jack, tugging his hand. "Come on Mr. Jack, we're going downstairs right now."
Still feeling uneasy using the crutches, he stood and placed his walking sticks beneath the pit of his arms. How was he going to manage to get downstairs using these blasted crutches? "Why are we going downstairs? Isn't everybody supposed to be going home right now?"
Reba looked at Jack as if he were an idiot. "What do you mean? We always eat lunch after the service."
Reba's mother rewarded Jack with a kind smile. "I guess since this is your first visit, you didn't know about the meal."
Reba tugged Jack's sleeve. "Come on."
Reba's mother spoke up. "Reba, Jack's on crutches. I think it's best if he wait until everybody is downstairs before he goes down. That way, he can take his time and not risk bumping into anybody on his way down."
Finally, Jack made his way downstairs, right behind Reba and her mother, taking the steps one at a time. The enticing scent of food swirled through the basement, making him realize he had skipped breakfast. Tugging his arm, Reba gestured toward a table. "Come on, you can sit with me and my mom."
Sighing, Jack plopped into the chair, glad he'd made it down the steps without falling. How was he going to get up and get his plate of food since he had to use his crutches to walk? Miraculously, Thelma approached. She presented him with a plate laden with fried chicken, some kind of dark green leafy vegetable, mashed potatoes and gravy and mixed vegetables. She also carried a second smaller plate, bearing a large slice of pumpkin pie. His stomach rumbled and he chuckled, glad that Thelma had brought his food.
She placed the dishes in front of him and then he spotted Paul standing behind her, holding a frosty glass of lemonade. Paul placed the drink beside Jack's plates. "Jack, I want you to meet my boyfriend, Paul. Paul, this is Jack Dawson." Jack shook Paul's hand, noticing Paul's firm handshake. The man proved as tall and muscular as Thelma had noted.
"Paul, I've heard a lot about you," Jack said with a grin.
Thelma's mouth dropped open, and she swatted Jack's shoulder. Her brown skin flushed. Jack chuckled, enjoying teasing Thelma. Paul spoke. "It's great to meet you, Jack. I hope Pastor Michael was able to collect enough money to help you out."
Jack shrugged. "Well, I appreciate every little bit." He gestured toward the green leafy vegetable on his plate, turning his attention toward Thelma. "Is this spinach?"
Paul chuckled, the deep rumble of his laugh sounding pleasant in the crowded, noisy basement. "Heck no, those are greens."
"Greens?"
Thelma laughed. "Just eat them. I'm sure you'll like them."
Jack gestured toward the pumpkin pie. "I love pumpkin pie."
Paul responded. "That's not pumpkin pie, that's sweet potato."
Before he started eating, Jack focused on Paul again. "I'd like to hear what it's like being a lumberjack."
Paul nodded. "After you eat, I'll be back by to talk to you." He patted his stomach. "Thelma and I haven't eaten yet, either. She was kind of worried about getting your food to you. She told me that you get pretty hungry during meal time."
Jack tasted the golden fried chicken, amazed at the salty, spicy taste of the meat. The creamy mashed potatoes with gravy swirled over his tongue, making him appreciate the worth of good food. The sweet potato pie that topped off his meal proved glorious. Reba chatted away the whole time, and her mother had to remind her to eat her food and not talk so much.
After the meal, Paul returned and told Jack all about being a lumberjack. Jack nodded a lot, enjoying hearing about Paul's profession. They were interrupted when Thelma came over with a thick cloth sack. "Jack! Daddy counted the money and we think we have enough for your art supplies and enough left over for you to use for other things!"
Touched, Jack took a deep breath, again amazed at the generosity of Michael's congregation. Taking a deep breath, he took his crutches from underneath the table and stood. "Jack where are you going?" asked Thelma.
He didn't respond as he hobbled up to the front of the basement. Balancing on his crutches, he spoke. "Everybody, I just want to thank everybody for your generosity. It means so much to me and…" He paused, looking at the sea of brown faces. "I just want you to know that I feel blessed today. Pastor Michael's sermon made me realize that I need to place the Lord first in my life from now on." He took a deep breath, gathering more courage as he continued to speak. He spoke of his parents dying, his nomad lifestyle, his passion for art, his time on the Titanic, and the last thing he spoke about was his true love, Rose DeWitt Bukater. "I love Rose, and I'm determined to find her. I know she's using the name of Lily Jackson." He closed his eyes briefly, gathering more courage as he spoke. He'd even seen a few of the women shed tears as he told of people dying on the ship wreck and about his deep love for Rose. "So, if you don't mind, say a prayer for me, say a prayer so that I can find Lily Jackson." He tapped his forehead. "I feel like I'm forgetting something, something important that will help me find her. It took me a long time to remember that Rose was using the alias of Lily Jackson...please pray that I can remember how to find her." His voice quivered, and he took a deep breath. Lord, please help me to remain calm.
Once he hobbled away from the front of the basement, the church members started clapping. The clapping intensified, filling the room with a wonderful sound. Before he could get to his seat, Reba's mother pulled him forward and soon, the entire congregation surrounded Jack in a circle, including those who had not initially accepted him into their church. As if by silent agreement, everybody joined hands and Pastor Michael's voice boomed throughout the basement. "Lord, thank you for this wonderful day." During the pastor's prayer, there was a lot of murmuring and people speaking to the Lord, and many people said "Yes, yes," agreeing with Pastor Michael's words.
Pastor Michael then ended his prayer by stating, "Lord, please help Jack with his memory. Please help him to find his true love, Rose." Jack's eyes remained closed and, his hands stayed on his crutches. Even after Michael had said 'Amen', Jack still stood in the midst of the circle his eyes shut.
"Jesus," Jack mumbled. "Please help me to find Rose." A tingling sensation started from the top of his head and traveled down his back, making him feel warm and liquid, like a mass of jelly. His entire body radiated with warmth and an unexplainable energy quivered through him. He dropped his crutches and almost crashed to the floor before somebody caught him, and eased his body onto the cold, hard floor. The cold floor felt good against his warm, energetic body.
"Lawd have mercy! Jack's been touched by the Holy Spirit!" A parishioner's voice echoed in the room, but, Jack barely noticed. Taking deep breaths, he tried to figure out what was happening to him.
Lord, help me. A glorious sensation filled him and he cried out, gasping with pleasure. Then, from out of nowhere, he recalled standing with his beloved Rose beneath the huge oak tree after the Carpathia had landed.
"They're letting me stay in an all-female rooming house for free for a couple of months. They'll be taking me there within the next hour."
"Where's the house?"
Rose had told him the address. His mind exploded with pleasure.
He knew where he could find Rose. He had to go to her as soon as possible!
I opened my eyes, forcing myself to get out of bed. It was Monday afternoon and the bright, brilliant sunlight shined through the curtains, warming my face. I'd been so sluggish and depressed lately. Was it true? Could I really be pregnant, or, was my mother just trying to scare me?
I walked down to the privy and, after I'd freshened up and brushed my teeth, I made my way toward the kitchen. I couldn't stomach eating breakfast and lunch earlier. The thought of food had made me feel queasy. Now, I didn't feel so bad and I was famished! I checked the time on the clock in the hallway – 2:00. Lunch was over and I doubted anybody would be in the kitchen except for Geri. I needed to talk to her about my predicament. I had not had a chance to get any time alone with her over the last few days because I'd been too tired to get out of bed to speak with Geri before breakfast.
I pushed the door open, entering the kitchen, and then I stopped. Geri wasn't around but I saw Cecile at the table, and I cringed. I hated this woman! She wore her nightgown and her face was devoid of makeup. She was so skinny that she looked more like a girl instead of a woman. I was in such a bad mood that I couldn't resist saying something. "What are you doing in the kitchen? I know you didn't come here to eat."
Ignoring me, she folded her thin, stick-like arms in front of her almost-flat chest and fled from the room as if she were scared of me. Geri then came through the back door to the kitchen, bearing some grocery bags. "Lily, hi. I didn't expect to see you in the kitchen at this time of day. I was about to start preparing dinner."
I rushed toward Geri, grabbing her grocery bags, setting them on the brown oak table before pulling her into a hug. Before I could help myself, I started crying so hard that I couldn't stop. Geri didn't seem surprised. She just held me while I cried, patting my back, cooing, treating me as if I were a sobbing child. Finally, Geri released me, stepping back. I'd stopped crying but I was a mess. My nose was running like a leaky hose, and my face was streaked with tears. I'd probably cried enough tears to fill one of Geri's huge iron pots.
Geri peered at me, slowly removing her coat and scarf. "I have to start dinner. Why don't you help me and then you can tell me all about your troubles."
So, after I cleaned my nose and wiped my eyes, Geri put me to work, slicing vegetables for the stew that would be served later that day. In a tear-filled voice, I told her about spotting my mother at the coffee house, our conversation, and her claim about my being pregnant. I stopped slicing the carrots, dropping my sharp knife on the table. I placed my hand against my stomach, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Geri, do you really think I could be pregnant, or, do you think my mother's trying to scare me?"
Geri stopped cutting her potatoes. Abandoning her chore, she sat beside me, taking my shaky hand into hers. "Honey, I can't speak about your mother's motives because I don't know her. But, since you've been staying here, I've sensed that you might be pregnant."
I gasped, holding Geri's hand in a strong, vice-like grip, wondering about what she'd said. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I wasn't sure. But, I had a feeling that you might be pregnant when you'd said that the coffee smelled like dirt. Plus, you had trouble eating certain foods. I thought it may have been grief or nerves at first, but, when you told me about loving Jack—"
"Oh, Jack…" I whimpered, moaning. "He's abandoned me-"
Geri squeezed my hand. "Honey, have faith. Even if he did abandon you, I'll be your friend through all of this." She paused. "It's only been days since the sinking of the Titanic. It's possible that Jack might appear—"
I moaned and whimpered, cutting her off. Right now, I wish I'd had some smelling salts because a light-headed, dizzy feeling came over me while I clutched Geri's hand. "Are you okay?" she gasped. Her dark eyes grew wide, and her brown cheeks flushed with worry.
"I felt like I was going to faint."
"Maybe you should go upstairs and lie down. I could bring your dinner later tonight on a tray."
I sniffed, not wanting to leave Geri. Right now, she was the only friend that I had in the entire world. I gazed around the kitchen, noting the silver canisters on the counter that contained, flour, sugar and cornmeal. I saw the huge pepper grinder sitting beside the canisters and then I glanced at the large oven. Focusing on these items helped me to resume my equilibrium. Finally, my light-headed feeling vanished, and I breathed deeply. "I think I'm okay."
Geri gave me a shrewd look. "You haven't eaten anything today, have you?"
I shook my head. "I was too tired and depressed to eat. The thought of eating made me want to throw up." I then mentioned that I'd initially been hungry when I came to the kitchen but spotting Cecile made me lose my appetite.
Geri chuckled. "Seeing Cecile made you lose your appetite? How come?"
I shuddered. "I don't trust that girl. There's something unnerving about her. Why doesn't she ever talk?"
Geri shrugged, standing up from the table. "I'm not sure what's wrong with Cecile. She only speaks when she has to, I guess."
"Well, why is she so skinny? I've never seen such a thin woman. She looks like a child when she wears her nightgown. Plus why was she standing here in the kitchen wearing a nightgown in the middle of the day? Is she depressed because she may be pregnant, too?"
Geri shook her head. "Honey, let's not waste precious time talking about Cecile. Right now, we need to focus on you and your plight. Do you have any idea what you will do?"
The thought of being pregnant overwhelmed me. Was I even pregnant? "Shouldn't I see a doctor or something? Couldn't he tell me for sure if I were pregnant?"
"He could probably make a good guess. But, you have no money to pay for a doctor."
I winced, silently agreeing with Geri's statement. I didn't have much money to my name. I didn't want to waste what I had on a doctor. Geri removed a carton of milk from the refrigerator and poured it into the pan on the stove. "I'm going to make you a nice, huge mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream." After Geri served me the steaming mug of hot chocolate and a tasty sandwich, she sat beside me at the table. "I want you to go upstairs and lie down. But, before you leave, we need to pray. Lily, you can never pray too much. You have to remember that. Promise?"
I nodded, silently promising that I'd remember that I could never pray too much. All I had left was prayer. After all, my mother hated me, and Jack…well, I didn't know if I'd ever see Jack again, and, I might be carrying his child in my stomach. I rubbed my hand over my tummy, saying a silent prayer for the life that may be sprouting inside of me.
Geri grabbed my hand. "Lord, please help Lily. Please make her strong enough to withstand whatever happens to her in the future." She paused before continuing. "Also, Lord, please help Jack. I believe Lily and Jack belong together. Please guide Jack back to us. Amen."
"Amen." I squeezed Geri's hand, and then a light, sizzling wave of shock coursed through my back. I gasped, falling back onto the chair.
"What's wrong?" Geri's voice was full of worry as she stared at me.
Before I could respond, we were interrupted by a knock at the front door. I gasped, for some reason, wondering if that could be Jack at the door! Had God answered my prayer and sent Jack back to me?
What do you think about Jack's relationship with his new church? How do you feel about some members not initially accepting him because he is white? Please share your opinion regarding my work by leaving a review!
Written by Cecelia Dowdy - Visit my website: titanicfanfiction dotcom